


Means of Survival

by zetsubou69



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Torchwood
Genre: Arrow S1, Gen, Multi, Post CoE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubou69/pseuds/zetsubou69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones wakes up in a hospital facing a world that is unfamiliar and slightly off, and a man that is not his captain, yet has lots in common with him. It's year two thousand and thirteen and Ianto has to learn of what transpired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doppelganger

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love, even if you are pointing out a mistakes I missed :)

A steady beeping of medical appliances filled the room. A familiar hospital scent filled his nose and burned its way into his lungs in a quite familiar way. He slowly pried his eyes open, narrowing them at bright sunrays room in which the room bathed.

The beeping gained speed when hurried footsteps and swish of a white coat announced a nurse joining his bedside.

“Good morning!” she greeted him, offering him water to drink from a glass with a straw. He coughed, his long-time unused vocal chords giving up on him as he wanted to speak first; so he accepted the drink and afterwards whispered hoarse thank you.

“So how is my handsome patient feeling?” the nurse asked in a thick American accent, a bright smile plastered on her face while her free hand reached for one of the machines he was connected to.

He coughed once more.

“Thanks,” he breathed, his voice raspy. As if waiting for his voice as sign, male doctor in approximately late fifties walked in.

“Mornin’, young man,” the doctor smiled at him, then followed with a quick check up; eyes scouting machines around and a light shining bright into his patient’s eyes.

“So, as everything seems to be as expected, let’s start. What’s your name, boy? Can’t keep calling you John Doe,” the doctor asked, a pencil and a notebook ready to write anything down. “Also, what are the date and the last thing you remember?”

“Jones. Ianto Jones,” he introduced himself. “And I have absolutely no idea.”

 

*

 

It was year two thousand and thirteen. Ianto couldn’t believe his ears. Last thing he could recall was visiting his sister, but then, there was just a fog over some Torchwood business that followed, so he quickly spilled a cover story of him being PA at some security company in Cardiff, but not really remembering anything besides that.

The nurse, Betty, patted his arm, telling him that temporary amnesia was often occurrence after head injuries, but there was a high chance of his memory returning quickly. Then she told the doctor Moore it’s probably a good idea to notify someone, whose name Ianto didn’t catch, and that she’ll take care of it.

The cute nurse who was with him when he woke up disappeared, leaving him just with the elderly doctor who started to examine him more thoroughly. Satisfied with how healthy Ianto seemed to be, except for small bruises over his body and a bump on his head, doctor Moore took Ianto off machines and IV.

“So… how did I get here?” Ianto asked as he was sitting up on the hospital bed.

“You happened to have a car accident. Fortunately for you, one of our donors was the unlucky guy who bumped into you running across the street. Seeing man in sharp suit, he offered to cover the expenses in the hospital in Central city until you wake up and he gets to talk to you. Now, young man, take it easy, the nurse will be back later with lunch and after that, mister Merlyn will want to talk to you. For someone who just got out of coma you look bit too lively, so don’t overdo it, we expect you to rest a bit more before we let you go. Also, we will to help you find where you lived before you lost your memory, but firstly, a rest is in order.”

 

*

 

Ianto managed to take a quick shower and put on a pair of fresh sweatpants and a t-shirt before Betty returned and nudged him back to the bed, which had now clean sheets on, and given him new IV. Clean clothes and brushed teeth, although there was no time for shave and he did not see himself in a mirror yet, now he felt ready to crawl away from the hospital, if only he knew where to go, and how long would painkillers stay in his system.

Hospital food proved to be different to what he expected. No tasteless meal, but a strong broth with pieces of vegetable and meat. Betty stayed with him whole time, sitting on a chair next to his bed and talking current gossips about some millionaire son miraculously found alive after five years, which Ianto didn’t really care for. Instead he occasionally politely interrupted her to get to know current political events, though that did not help him at all as he didn’t recognize a name mentioned.

The year also bothered him. Two thousand and thirteen. It meant four years of lost time. Where was he during that four years? The last thing he remembered was visiting his sister one early summer day, but after that there was nothing in his mind. The next thing he recalled was just waking up in this hospital bed, with dry throat and mild headache from bruise on his head that was obviously caused by his head hitting either car or the road. The state of his body suggested the latter.

Lost in his thoughts he jumped when somebody knocked on the door and the nurse stopped her monologue.

“Come in,” she said loudly. “Mr Jones is ready for visitors,” she added, rising to her feet instantly.

“Good afternoon, Mr Jones,” a pleasant and oh-so-familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

Ianto jerked his head to see the newcomer and for the tiniest moment warmth spread in his chest in relief that Jack had found him. When the moment passed, cold stunned his limbs. Familiar voice belonged to familiar but aged face.

The newcomer, dressed in grey suit that was so unlike Jack, entered the room.

Ianto did his best not to frown in disappointment. This man had the body and voice of his captain, but single look at the man’s blue eyes, Ianto simply knew that this was not his captain. Inhaling sharply, he put on polite smile, and steeled himself.

“Good afternoon, Mr…?”

Ianto’s eye flicked behind Jack’s doppelganger as that turned to close the door behind himself and spotted bodyguard waiting outside. Then the man in suit took few more steps into the room.

“My name is Malcolm Merlyn, and it would seem that I am the cause of your stay here,” he introduced himself and laughed meekly. “For that I apologize.” None of his expression reached his eyes that were watching Ianto and carefully assessing him.

“Mr Merlyn,” Ianto nodded, but made no move to get off the bed, playing it safe for now.

“As I was informed, you have no memory of incident that brought you here, right?” Merlyn asked.

Ianto nodded, turning his eyes to the nurse. In his mind, he was making a list of differences between his Jack and this man. Suit. Attitude. Age. This man was older. Five to ten years, but they were so visible to Ianto’s perceptive eyes and his memory of his forever young and alive lover. There was the dangerous glint in familiar blue eyes that made lesser men hide or surrender. Most of the time Jack’s eyes were much kinder. There was the natural Jack’s scent _(51st century pheromones, you people have no idea_ ) that was replaced by surely very expensive and nice smelling cologne. This man also did not flirt wherever he walked.

“Mr Jones is suffering from a temporary amnesia, Mr Merlyn, and so far he was able to give us only names of his closest relatives, which we are attempting to contact,” she explained swiftly.

Merlyn nodded.

“Betty, how about you go out for a second? I would like to speak with Mr Jones privately,” Merlyn said, not even looking at the nurse, yet she immediately nodded and left without a word.

“It’s Ianto, please,“ Ianto said, not moving from the bed. Suddenly he found himself looking for any possible weapons and covers. Malcolm Merlyn might have looked like an ordinary business man, but after years spent at Torchwood, Ianto saw beneath that well fitted suit clearly, seeing the man turned living weapon underneath.

Merlyn smiled and took a seat on the chair where Betty sat before.

“Do you really remember nothing from the car accident, Mr Jones?”

Ianto shook his head. “I apologize. I have truly no idea what happened and how I got here, besides what I’ve been told.”

Merlyn nodded shortly.

“To cover the basics, I usually send my lawyers, but I made exception with you. I am not worried about money. My car hit you, I cover the expenses.” Merlyn shrugged his shoulders. “Thing is, Mr Jones, you don’t exist. Rhiannon Davies, married to Johnny Davies, two children, they don’t exist either. The British embassy also denied Ianto Jones’s presence in both Wales and US. Well, there’s been a match on the name, but you obviously are not a newborn baby. Also there are no records of the name you given us in past year anywhere in this city. So, can you tell me anything that could possibly help you?”

Silence settled in as they stared at each other’s eyes, Ianto breathing in the expensive cologne that was as pleasant as Jack’s natural scent, Merlyn looking for anything Ianto’s face could betray.

“I don’t know anything,” Ianto decided to reply truthfully. “I truly don’t know. Last thing I remember is visiting my sister, and then driving back to work. I have no idea what happened between spring of two thousand and nine and today. And I have no idea where this Starling city I’ve been told I’m in is. So believe me, mister Merlyn, I have as many questions as you do, perhaps more.”

Ianto stopped talking for a second, catching a breath. He had to play this safe. He could not let Jack’s doppelganger know about what kind of person he really could be, so playing lost young man had to do.

“I have no idea where I live. I have no idea where I work. Now, I’m not even sure about my own name. The only three people around me I recognize by name now are currently doctor Moore, nurse Betty and you, sir, so trust me that it’s not easy for me either.”

Also being in hospital wearing sweat pants and white t-shirt and nothing else slightly complicated his escape and find out what happened plans.

“Well, in that case let’s put together what we know about you and see if we can find you place here.”

Merlyn patted Ianto’s shoulder and sadness as sharp as needle painfully pierced Ianto’s chest. This simply didn’t feel like his world.

 

*

 

When he asked about access to phone or computer, Betty just shook her head, saying there were none he was allowed to have access to, so he had to do with this week’s issue of some gossip magazines. If she meant they had none spare, or that he was not allowed to use any technology, she didn’t explain. He figured it was probably the latter.

To Ianto’s great displeasure (which he was not allowed to voice out) he was forced to stay in the hospital for several more days. He has been told it was because of his own health, but as he noticed how carefully they watched him, Ianto quickly realized it was to make sure he was not lying.

Understandable solution, before they discharge him for civil life again, he chuckled to himself.

When asked about preferred clothes, he immediately said suit. Betty asked his size and later that afternoon delivered black suit with simple black tie and white shirt. Also clean underwear, socks and shoes.

Ianto stared at himself in the mirror. Cleanly shaven, dressed up as he remembered himself from Torchwood One, he saw some differences that disturbed him.

On his left cheek, there was a healed scar he did not remember getting. He didn’t look much older to how he remembered himself, but his body felt somehow stronger. He missed his tailored suits but this one had to do. He didn’t pay for it after all, so he had no right to complain.

His hair was in desperate need of cutting, but just brushing it with his fingers had to do for now.

There was knock on the door disturbing him from his contemplation. Ianto turned around, walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out following one of Merlyn’s men wherever Jack’s look alike wanted to have him.

 

 


	2. Fitting in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta read, just hundred percent work of one procrastinator. Yay.

One of Merlyn’s men turned out to be a petite brunette with ebony dark skin in a pinstripe business suit with a bag full of documents. She introduced as Melissa, gave him one of professional business smiles he knew how to use too, ushered him to an empty table at the hospital canteen, set two bottles of clean water on the table and took some files out of her bag.

“Firstly, Mr Jones, please sign these. These are documents concerning your discharge from hospital, you not taking Mr Merlyn to court for hitting you with a car, and your new job contract, a temp for Brian at sales. Mr Merlyn mentioned you should have some experience and be capable of filling in this vacancy. Your job will be just the usual paperwork, arranging appointments and making coffee, unless you are feeling up to it.”

Ianto picked up a pen from the table and obediently signed handed documents. He decided from the moment he woke up to play along with anything Jack’s look alike might throw at him as long as it doesn’t endanger him.

“I’m grateful for this opportunity. I’ve been found without any ID card so jobhunting would seem bit complicated. But wait, would that make me an illegal worker?”

Melissa smiled at him and Ianto sighed at her resemblance to a woman he once knew.

Then she set out several forms in front of him.

“I will not question my boss decision, but he seemed to have pulled some strings, so just fill this out, we’ll stop by photobooth, and within a week you should have your driving license and passport delivered to you.”

Ianto’s eyes widened in surprise, an emotion he didn’t have to pretend over something so uncommon. To get a newly issued set of documents for someone like this bordered with illegality. It wasn’t as if Torchwood had never done this, any police was guilty of this crime; it was just that no one he knew here owed him such a favour.

“Thank you.”

Ianto spent next hour with Melissa going over more paperwork necessary to make him real person despite his lack of other records. Malcolm Merlyn kept his word and decided to help him beyond what one would expect from wealthy man. Ianto silenced nagging voice in his head questioning Jack’s look alike’s motives and kept on focusing on his current situation.

 

*

 

Somewhere midway through the paperwork, throwing in random questions about current world political and social developments and having Melissa answer his inquiries, Ianto’s heart sank a little when his doubt proved true.

He seemed to misplaced to time when people spoke of companies he never heard of, where were politicians he never heard of, cities he never learned of; and he knew _plenty_ (though, not everything, he was just great at pretending to know everything with his random trivia knowledge), in his archiving years.

There was drill in Torchwood One for employees, just in case they were suddenly misplaced. Integrate with society, learn everything you can use to your advantage, if possible return with something valuable. Have an ordinary person cover-story ready and use it. Don’t think about home and survive, until you find something to get you back to Torchwood.

He blinked several times, realizing Melissa was trying to get his attention.

“I’m sorry, I got lost a bit,” he apologized for his distraction. “You were saying?”

“We also found you accommodation…”

 

*

 

As a brand new employee of a big company, he’s been given a place to stay at among his co-workers. The apartment house was situated at the outskirt of Glades district and it was nothing extravagant. Lots of tiny flats consisting two smallish rooms and a kitchen and a bathroom, all squished in an old five floor house. The rent was to be subtracted from his salary; one positive thing about his situation, he didn’t have to pay in advance. Ianto was getting fed up with having to rely on generosity of others.

The bed was old but linens were clean, so he fell face first on the pillow trying to ease his mind with a five minute nap. He might have been effective employee for Torchwood but here he was utterly lost. Listening to people, he found the world around him more alien then most things that fell through the rift in Cardiff.

He had very little money on him, just enough for little food and cab fare to his new work place where he was to report the next day at eight am. He was given some free clothes which he intended to replace as soon as possible with something more fitting his frame. When he learned the suit they found him in and that they cut to get to his injuries was Armani, both he and Betty made face. She of horror, he of disappointment. He remembered getting Armani three piece suit from Jack the night they went to the posh French place his sister’s friend spotted him at.

The only bright side of his current predicament was that this time seemed safe. Yes, there was some criminality, but no alien invasions happened recently as far as he was able to learn. Nobody spoke about metal men and new Bond films were released according to schedule. The latter pleased him more than the first for obvious reasons; though he wondered how long would it be before his need for excitement would kick in.

The city looked familiarly alive from his window. Ianto decided that the best solution was to stay here until he found better option.

 

*

 

Hit new boss was an ordinary salesman who spent his fifty hours a week working, loved his work, but hated paperwork to the point his PA had to do everything for him.

Ianto shirt was ironed to perfection, his face shaved to smoothness, his accent found adorable by ladies form accounts department, and the coffee he offered his new boss was the best he could make from the beans he found in small office kitchenette. By the end of his first day he was well integrated in this machine, though his lack of local knowledge was something he was working hard on. For a cup of his coffee, ladies proved to be very sharing in the gossip and news area.

He proved the hardworking man his face promised him to be and by the second day, when all eyes that were watching him before disappeared, he finally got to use the work computer for his own research during the lunch break. Saying he had to finish some paperwork while others went to lunch, he connected to the internet and started his search for things he remembered. It might have been slightly paranoid, but he didn’t want anyone accidentally looking over his shoulder.

The results were more than disappointing.

There were indeed no traces of his family no matter where he looked.

UNIT was either very secretive about its existence or ceased its existence, wiping traces behind them.

There were no records of the Canary Wharf Incident.

The doctor and blue box gave him nothing resembling the Doctor he was after.

Torchwood servers they set up so there’s access from any place on the earth were unavailable. Who or what might have taken them down? They were supposed to be safe and accessible from any computer if user knew proper passwords.

No Torchwood reference in Cardiff. No mentions of Captain Jack Harkness. No mentions of anyone Ianto Jones. Webpages full of triggers he set up in case he was ever retconned were gone.

Or never have existed.

Ianto grew slightly worried. So far his worst fear was proving to have come true. He was indeed in some parallel universe to his own, in a parallel universe in which Ianto Jones didn’t exist.

Laughter snapped him out of his thoughts and he quickly closed the windows, wiped the search memory, and took out his boxed lunch. Tess, a tall blonde from next table winked at him as she walked by, and Ianto smiled back at her.

To be honest, he hoped that the day he leaves his Earth he would be going somewhere fascinating, somewhere deep in the space, not some lousy parallel universe, where would get it by car, lose his memory and get an expensive suit cut up by doctors.

What he was learning raised more questions than gave him answers. What does he do now, in a world where is no home to return to? And most importantly, how did he get here, before being hit in the head wiped his recent memories?

 

*

 

Ianto bit goodbye to his coworkers and gave an extra smile to two cute girls who found his accent attractive before disappearing in the streets. He thought about it a lot and decided that no world was safe enough without a gun anymore, especially this continent where they drank too much of Starbucks and where tea was not drinkable and where the sound of police sirens was more plentiful than number of weevils in Cardiff sewers.

He took a walk on his way home, trying to pick a shop to visit later at night. It was the great thing about USA, if you were interested in a gun, nothing stood in your way. Not even his lack of money. Shops were plenty and with his training with alien technology, he believed no human security system should be much of an issue.

He spotted one almost hidden shop. He found several escape routes from that place, if you were going on foot; cops had it worse, they weren’t used to hunting angry aliens over Cardiff, Ianto should be able to outrun them in case something goes wrong.

He would have approximately five minutes inside after breaking in to pick a gun and to find appropriate ammunition, which was substantively more than what Jack gave them during trainings in the hub.

Having decided on his plans for tonight, he quickened his pace.

 

*

 

Dressed in comfortable sports clothes he looked like the random insomniac guy taking his midnight run. Avoiding cameras was challenging, but he managed that. Were he to reunite with Jack again his captain would be pleased to learn how he used his skills gained from naked hide and seek.

The security was worse than bad so Ianto slipped in and grinned like a child in a candyshop. Picking locks with paperclips so he doesn’t have to smash the security glass, he followed by taking two small handguns similar to one he owned previously.

As he was collecting ammunition into his backpack, a shivers ran down his neck. Something behind him and he dropped to the floor just in time to avoid being knocked out by quick fist of man dressed in black who appeared behind him out of nowhere.

Ianto kicked against his knees and sprung to his feet as the man with face covered in mask fell to the floor. He closed the backpack as he ran towards the door but it was to no avail. Just as he was reaching to open it, a black arrow hit the door in front of him and world turned into white cloud and then went black.

 

*

 

Ianto woke up bound in chains hanging from above him. His arms and his head hurt and his mouth felt dry. Consciousness slowly creeping in as sedatives wore off. Ianto blinked several times, trying to search his surroundings, but seeing only a pitch black and nothing more.

A switch clicked and lights came to life with buzzing noise, revealing him a cliché empty warehouse.

He hissed as something stabbed him in the neck and felt being injected with something.

“Mister Jones,” familiar voice sounded from behind him and a shiver rand down Ianto’s spine. Were this any other moment, the erection he got would be okay, but right now this person was not his lover and certainly meant no good to him.

“Mister Merlyn,” he replied politely watching the older man dressed in pristine suit step into his field of vision. Compared to that, his ruffled appearance and chains holding his arms up felt terribly out of place. “What did you just give me?”

“It was just a truth serum. Man has to appreciate possibilities of some drugs, even if they are not hundred percent reliable. You seem awfully calm for someone who was supposed to have never been kidnapped before,” older man smirked, as if they were chatting with coffee between them, and subtracted few points from his probability to leave this place unharmed.

“Well, real surprise his hard to pretend, so I just don’t try.”

Malcolm Merlyn raised his eyebrows for a moment, and Ianto translated it as considering him either very brave or foolish.

The tingle from his spine spread quickly to his body and he found himself thanking various Torchwood One trainings for keeping his head clear.

“In that case I might get straight to questioning. So, simple questions first. What’s your name?”

Chains rattled as Ianto tried to find a new position to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“Jones. Ianto Jones.”

“No man named Ianto Jones fitting your description exists. And it took lots of my resources when I searched for proof of anything else. So let’s try again?”

Ianto rolled his eyes.

“I can give you several different reasons why could that be possible, starting with naming every bigger government organization that is able to wipe out a person off the surface of the Earth.”

“How would you know that?”

“I’m a James Bond fan.”

Ianto watched the corner of Merlyn’s lips curl upward in an involuntarily smile. Great, he was making his captor impressed. His chances of not getting stabbed by any of the daggers Merlyn was hiding beneath the suit went up.

“Why am I even here?” he tried asking, and rattled the chains for the emphasis.

“Very few British citizens would get an illegal gun a week after getting out of car crash, especially after losing recent memories. That amnesia I believe you, nobody pretends panic that well. But the rest? Also no one without special training would be able to do the rest. What’s UNIT?”

So they followed him and went through his today’s search log. Seems he wasn’t careful enough.

“Something that doesn’t exist here and now.”

“The doctor and the blue box? Code name of some sorts?”

“No, but someone that doesn’t exist here in any time,” he repeated himself.

“What’s Torchwood? And if you give me the same line it’ll hurt.”

Ianto hesitated. He knew the look Merlyn gave him; Ianto knew the look from Jack. Only once he saw Jack torture someone for information, after he found an old tape from Torchwood One archives. It hurt Jack, but the man screamed and gave them everything.

“Torchwood Institute. From what I found it has never existed here, because Queen Victoria never had the reason to found it. It’s supposed to be United Kingdom based, our branch was in Cardiff.”

Merlyn decided to let it slip in favour of asking another question.

“Who’s captain Jack Harkness?”

Ianto’s heart sank a bit. Hearing the name fall from familiar lips without the flirty tone was just plain wrong.

“He was my boss.”

“Was?”

“No Torchwood, no job. No job, no boss.”

“How can something have existed and haven’t existed at the same time, considering you aren’t making things up?”

“I have no idea, I’m no rocket scientist.”

A moment of silence followed.

“The serum doesn’t work on you,” Merlyn more stated than inquired and took few steps closer so now they faced each other from a very small distance.

This time it was Ianto’s turn to smirk as he stared into gorgeous blue eyes that looked at him without any hint of warmth.

“What do you think?”

Malcolm turned him around, chains and sore arms protesting to such manhandling, so that Ianto faced the not-empty part of the warehouse. On a big table there laid a bloody big gun lost Torchwood employee would recognize anytime, after that incident with Daleks.

“So, Jones, Ianto Jones, last question before you get expendable, do you remember what is this? And think before answering, I’m losing my patience,” Merlyn asked and Ianto had to close his eyes for a second at that voice. He didn’t believe he would live long enough to regret shagging Jack bloody Harkness, but again, the fate proved him wrong.

“I do. I think it’s how I got here. It’s a dimension cannon, which does exactly what it says on the tin. It rips the fabric of reality and allows you to travel anywhere. And from where I’m hanging, it seems to be broken.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
